Talking Little Child Poem by James McLain

She's walking down, 'me, I'm walking up
walking down to waters edge
and looking up it seemed she looks to me
up past the clouds out past the sea
behind my head the sun is hot
the wind is still, 'she stops,
to ask me why,
Mister, mister between each small breath
when caught,
so far and out it is you swim,
Beyond each buoy here again
then back out you start again
so far out I can not tell and just because
is all so tell me why?
Little, small and looking down I squat and drip
to wet to dry,
looking at her clear blue eyes
looking knew and each new day
Because it's hard is all I say,
because it is hard.